


My Only Sunshine

by preferredmethodofprocrastination



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, rated M for sadness and tears not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferredmethodofprocrastination/pseuds/preferredmethodofprocrastination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by that sad old folk song...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Only Sunshine

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY SUNSHINE

The piece of scrap they had Bucky hooked up to moved spasmodically as they tried and tried to get it connected to his brain. Then there was a flash and he couldn't see. It took and indeterminate amount of time before he could see again. There was a blond man standing over him.

“Steve?”

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY WHEN SKIES ARE GREY

“No, I am not Captain Rodgers,” and no he was not. He was too small. He wore glasses and shoddy aftershave that smelled like wet dog crap. He spoke in a thick Russian accent and held a tiny torch to the metal contraption at Bucky’s side. “Soon you will forget him anyway...”

YOU NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

He could feel his mind slipping away. He could no longer remember the name of the doctor who was torturing him, though he was sure he had asked and been told a hundred times. He never knew how many of his memories had Steve in them until they were taken away. His eyes shut and he clenched his teeth against the rubber between them and managed not to scream, but could not keep an animalistic grunt from rumbling from his chest.

PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY SUNSHINE AWAY

His memories were growing grey and bleak, no sign of Steve’s golden head, not even of his tiny shrunken form from before… what had happened after? What had happened before? Where was the person he could no longer remember? His metal arm shot out and grabbed at the throat of the false man, the one with the glasses. He released the switch, which stopped the torrent of electricity from coursing through his body. There were tears on his face and he had never felt so lost. In his bygone days there had been a light, a light that this cruel doctor and his shocks had taken away. But the light had been a person. How was that? How could a person be a light?

THE OTHER NIGHT, DEAR, AS I LAY SLEEPING

He woke with a start, the cruel roughly hewn man who opened the door of his freezing pod ordered him to get out in a tongue that didn't seem so foreign anymore.

“ _ Were your dreams happy, Зима человек _ ?” he barked mockingly, giving him a shock with a cattle prod. They called him the “Winter man”, maybe because when they were done with him, they would freeze him like a steak until he was needed or wanted again. His dream had been pleasant because he had dreamed of the light person. The man who had been his friend, or more, but no less. He was blond and small, a sickly pale weakling. And then in some of his dream he had been big, the light man. He dressed in bright colors and carried a shield with a star emblazoned on it.

“No,” he lied, because next time they might not let him dream...

I DREAMT I HELD YOU IN MY ARMS

_ “Bucky?” Steve asked. He was shirtless and his pectoral muscles rippled. He leant over Bucky, maybe he had been thrashing in his sleep again, screaming as their machines of torture threatened to tear him limb from limb in that Hydra camp. _

_ “Steve,” he croaked. _

_ “It was happening again,” he propped himself up on one elbow. _

_ “Mind if I join you, Buck?” Steve eased his way onto the bed. _

_ “Just like old times...” he groaned. _

_ “Maybe like new times,” Steve slid his hand up Bucky’s back and then up the back of his neck. He pulled Bucky towards him, smelling like sweat and smoke and the blood of enemies. His lips pressed against his forehead, to Bucky’s… no… the feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t relief as he had expected it to be. It was regret. He hadn’t wanted Steve’s lips to press sweetly against his creased forehead. He pulled back much to Steve’s befuddlement…  _

_ “New times, Steve,” he pulled Steve into a deep kiss.  _

_ He had woken at 0600 with a very naked Steve’s arms holding him a tight embrace. _

WHEN I AWOKE, DEAR, I WAS MISTAKEN

The cold was the only thing there to embrace him when he woke up.

SO I HUNG MY HEAD, AND I CRIED

He got ten prods if burning electricity for every tear he cried. The memories began to fade again, leaving only the bright imprint of a man who seemed to shine brighter than the sun.


End file.
